


Night Terrors

by Glassdarkly



Series: Second Front [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Drama, Homophobic Language, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassdarkly/pseuds/Glassdarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles's attempt to follow Ms Harkness's advice and keep Spike close to him at all times leads him, and those he is sworn to protect, into terrible danger. </p><p>The fourth story in the Second Front series, an alternate canon BtVS season 7. Set around the time of <i>Same Time, Same Place.</i></p><p>First posted to the Summer of Giles Livejournal community in June 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> If it seems like I go on a bit about the appearance of Robson's flat (as seen in the season 7 BtVS episode, _Sleeper_ , which also features the only canon appearance of the Potential Slayer, Norah) it's because I've never seen anywhere in the UK that looks anything like it.

"Bloody hell!"

Giles turned from locking the door. "Is there a problem?"

Spike was gazing about him with a disgusted look on his face. "Not what I expected, that's all. I mean, this place-it's not _yours_ , is it, Giles?"

"No, it's not," Giles agreed. "I have – well, I suppose you could call it squatters' rights, which is why I could invite you in -but it doesn't belong to me." 

Spike shuddered. "Glad to hear it, mate, 'cos look at it." 

Giles was glad he'd phoned ahead and made sure no one was in. The last thing he needed was for Spike and Robson to get off on the wrong foot. Taking Spike's arm by the elbow, he guided him further into the flat, revealing more of the very peculiar colour scheme, darkly varnished wood finishes and heavy old-fashioned furniture. 

"As it happens, it belongs to a work colleague of mine. He inherited it from his aunt, who'd lived abroad for a long time – Patagonia, I believe."

Spike allowed himself to be steered through the tiny hallway and into the cluttered living room. "Poofter, is he?"

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Giles squeezed Spike's elbow rather hard before he could stop himself. 

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. Nothin' against poofters, as it happens." Spike leaned in closer, hot, blue gaze fixed on Giles in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable. " _You_ know that."

"Yes, you've made that very clear," Giles gritted, well aware he was being teased. 

Spike leaned in for a kiss and Giles let him take it. In spite of what Ms Harkness had said about keeping his 'baser instincts' under control, surely a kiss couldn't hurt?

Spike's lips were hard. His mobile tongue was wet and cold. "No one here," he hissed in Giles's ear. "Could take it into the bedroom."

Giles shook his head to clear the Spike-induced fog in his brain. Regretfully, he pushed him away.

"Remember what I said last night, Spike. We can't…do that. Not at the moment." 

Spike pouted, playful still, but there was hurt underneath the playfulness. "Sorry. I forgot."

 _No, you aren't and no, you didn't_ , Giles thought. He said, "Even if we could, we couldn't do it here."

Spike backed off suddenly. He wandered away across the room, fingers tracing the solid shapes of one piece of dark, hardwood furniture after another. "Why's that, then? Your poofter friend not gettin' any?"

"Please don't call him that, Spike. It's offensive, and not remotely funny."

Spike didn't even turn around. "Yeah, sorry." Once again, he didn't sound sorry at all.

Giles scowled at Spike's oblivious back. "His name is Robson – Charles Robson. He's a fellow Watcher, and his sexual orientation is really none of your business. Also, he's touchy on the subject of…of relationships, so please don't tease him. He wouldn't take it well."

Spike glanced back over his shoulder. "Boyfriend walked out on him, did he?"

Giles stared. "How did you guess?"

Spike tapped his nose with the side of his finger. "Didn't have to. Heartbreak. Can smell it. Besides, there's another bloke's scent here as well as yours and this Robson's, but very faint. Stale. Hasn't been here in a while." 

"Ah." Giles shivered, chilled at this reminder of Spike's predatory nature- teasing out his prey's weaknesses.

"Doesn't explain the girls, though." Spike was near the fireplace, hand still running over furniture and fittings, as if trying to mould their shapes into his memory. 

"Girls?" _Ah_ , Giles thought. _I was getting to that_.

Spike's nostrils flared. "Yeah, girls – a lot of 'em, and young. Not your mate Robson's usual poison, 'less he swings both ways, like you." He turned back to Giles, eyes skewering him, like skilfully thrown knives. "This anything to do with what was keeping you in town for so long? You said it was Slayer business."

Giles took off his glasses and polished them, playing for time. All the way down the M4, he'd been pondering how much he should tell Spike, given his unfortunate connection to their enemy. 

He put his glasses back on and met Spike's gaze. "Yes, that's exactly what it is. Someone – or more likely some _thing_ – is targeting and killing potential Slayers. Many have died, and the Watchers' Council seems powerless to stop the slaughter." 

"And you and this Robson bloke…"Spike began, but his voice trailed off. 

"Yes," Giles finished for him. "We're acting independently of the Council –flying under the radar, as it were - trying to save what we can before it's too late." 

Spike continued to stare at him, but his face had turned ashen. 

"Fuck!" he exclaimed suddenly, and the next moment he was heading towards the front door.

"Spike?" Giles moved to intercept him. "What's the matter?"

He reached the door just before Spike and stood with his back to it, blocking the exit, while Spike glared up at him. 

"Stand aside," Spike growled.

Giles shook his head. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Spike's eyes narrowed "What's _wrong_? Come on, Giles, you may be old but you're not soft in the head yet." He put a hand over his dead heart. "I'm a vampire, you git, and what's more, according to what you said only last night, that same someone or some _thing_ is messin' with me big time. And you brought me _here_? Of all places?"

Giles stood his ground, though Spike's furious words exacerbated his own doubts about the wisdom of his actions. He squared his shoulders. Ms Harkness very rarely dispensed advice, and when she did, it was only a fool who didn't listen. 

"I did, because I think it'll be safer for everyone if I keep you near me, which I thought was what you wanted."

Spike's grim expression faded and his shoulders slumped. "Was," he agreed. "Didn't want to put anyone else in danger, though, especially not Slayers. Done with hurtin' 'em."

"Potential Slayers," Giles found himself saying, as if it mattered. "Buffy is still the Slayer."

But Spike wasn't listening. Instead, he wandered off across the flat again, opening doors and cupboards as he went. 

"Come on," he muttered to himself. "Bloke's a Watcher, and he's bent. Stands to reason he'll have some chains somewhere."

Once again, Giles breathed a sigh of relief that Robson was currently absent. The man was a terrible prude and any suggestion that he might secretly indulge in what he would probably consider disgusting deviancy would have had him foaming at the mouth. 

"What on earth do you want chains for?" he asked, watching Spike's erratic path around the room.

Spike gave him a bleak look. "'Cos you have to sleep sometimes, don't you?" 

“If you’re worried about sharing living space with the potential Slayers, don’t be. They’re rarely here for more than a few hours on their way through. We have a safe house in another part of London.”

Spike looked relieved. “Don’t tell me where it is.”

“All right.” Giles supposed he should be grateful Spike was acting so responsibly. “Tea?” 

Spike was still rummaging in cupboards. “Yeah, all right, then.”

It didn’t look like Spike planned to make another escape attempt just yet. Giles pushed himself away from the door and headed for the kitchen. 

“Do stop that,” he said, in passing. “Charles really doesn’t like anyone prying into his things.”

“Not prying,” Spike growled, but he closed the cupboard, which was full of rather hideous china ornaments on an Andean theme, and followed Giles into the kitchen. 

“Just so you know, I’m not bloody staying here unless you chain me up at night.”

Giles picked up the kettle and turned towards the sink. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I mean it, Giles.” Spike’s tone turned pleading. “Stuff’s happening to me, and I don’t know what it’s about. You can’t trust me. You shouldn’t.”

Giles switched the kettle on. Then he made himself meet Spike’s troubled blue eyes. He smiled.

“Oddly, I trust you more now than I ever have done.” Which, though true, wasn't saying much.

“You…what?” Spike stared at him suspiciously. But then he rolled his eyes. "Oh, I get it. I’m just so devastatingly sexy that I've fucked the brains right out of you, that it?"

“Yes,” Giles agreed, to have an end of it. “That’s it exactly.”

A rather uncomfortable silence fell between them. Spike leaned on the counter and watched while Giles warmed the pot, spooned tea into it and covered it with a cosy in the shape of a rather supercilious looking llama. 

Then, just as Giles was about to pour the first mug, Spike said, “If it’s necessary, you _will_ kill me, won’t you?”

Giles yelped, as tea spilled onto the counter. He put the teapot down and glared at Spike.

“It won’t be necessary.”

“But _if_ it is,” Spike persisted. “Will you?”

Their eyes met again. After a moment, Giles cleared his throat. “You have my word.”

"Good enough." Spike indicated the teapot. "Get on with it, then."

"All right, all right." Giles picked up the teapot again, but as he did so, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock and the front door swung open. 

"Get inside! Hurry!" A man's voice, light and breathless, followed by two sets of footsteps entering the flat and the door slamming shut. 

Spike raised an eyebrow at Giles and straightened. Giles set the teapot down a second time. 

"Robson?" he called. "It's Rupert Giles. Is everything all right?"

His words were greeted by a sudden, shocked silence. Then, the man's voice spoke again. "Stay here," and there was the ominous click of a gun being cocked.

Giles raised his hands, palms out, gesturing for Spike to do the same. Spike rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

A moment later, a foot impacted with the kitchen door and it flew inwards with a crash. Robson stood in the doorway, holding the gun two-handed, his rather pudgy face pale and strained. The gun swung from Spike to Giles and back again.

"Who's this?" Robson growled at Giles. "What's he doing here?"

Giles cleared his throat. The moment of truth had arrived. He made to put his hands down, but Robson gestured with the gun.

"I didn't say you could do that."

Giles frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, Charles. It's me. Rupert."

Robson only glared. "Prove it."

"And how exactly should I do that?"

"Easily," Robson shot back. "Just pick something up. That teapot will do, in fact."

"Ah." Giles picked up the teapot for the third time, reflecting that at least he wouldn't have to waste time explaining to Robson what they were up against.

As he poured tea into the waiting mugs, he heard Robson give a tiny sigh of relief. Then a shiver went through him as Robson spoke the Words of the same counterspell Giles had used on the phantom of Jenny.

"Ow!" Spike protested. "Watch it, mate. That hurts."

"Sorry." Robson's voice was strained. "One can't be too careful."

The safety clicked back on, and Robson put the gun in his underarm holster. He slumped, looking exhausted. At the same time, another face peered into the kitchen – a girl – young, olive-skinned. Scared-looking.

"Everything okay, Mr Robson?"

Robson attempted to smile at her. "I think so, Norah. Yes." 

Giles saw Spike's nostrils flare, testing the girl's scent. 

"A new Potential?" Giles asked Robson, before Spike could open his mouth.

"Yes, that's right." Robson beckoned the girl into the kitchen. "Don’t be afraid, Norah. This is my colleague, Rupert Giles and…" His voice trailed off. "You never introduced your friend, Rupert."

Giles squared his shoulders. But before he could get a word out, Spike said, "Name's Spike. M' a vampire, but don't worry. All reformed now. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

Oh dear lord, Giles thought. He saw Robson's initial blink of surprise turn into a frown of extreme displeasure, while the girl, Norah, hung back in the doorway looking bewildered. 

"I don't think that's funny," Robson said, tightly. "Rupert…"

"Not tryin' to be funny," Spike growled. He vamped out, picked up his mug of tea and drank. "Nice cuppa, Rupert, mate." 

"Oh God!" Robson backed up fast, arms out to protect the girl behind him, while Spike blinked at him with sleepy yellow predator's eyes and Giles barely restrained himself from strangling him. 

Robson had fumbled a stake out of his jacket pocket. "Get away from it, Rupert! Quickly!"

Meanwhile Norah was peering around Robson's back at Spike, scared, but clearly curious. "That's a vampire?"

"Yep." Spike winked at her. The little bastard was enjoying himself.

Giles cleared his throat loudly. " _If_ you don't mind, Spike…" He glared.

Spike smirked at him, but when Giles continued to glare, his face fell. "Sorry." This time it sounded like he meant it. He shook his head, and the ridged forehead and fangs sank away. Norah stared, fascinated.

Giles addressed Robson. "I'm sorry about that, Charles. He can be terribly childish at times. This is Spike, also known as William the Bloody. If you've been keeping up with my reports, you'll know that he's harmless."

"Harmless?" Spike echoed, sounding outraged, while Robson narrowed his eyes.

"I've read your reports. If this is the same vampire, he has some sort of electronic device fitted, doesn't he, that prevents him physically harming humans?"

"That's right," Giles agreed, "and-"

But Robson interrupted him. "However, I fail to see how that renders him harmless, and as for your decision to bring him here at a time like this– I have to say, Rupert, words fail me."

Just as well, Giles thought, but Robson's words had struck a chord all the same. How to explain himself? "The reports may have revealed that Spike has been an ally of the Slayer and her friends for some years now, but they don't say that he's recently acquired a soul."

Robson looked bewildered. "A soul?" He glared at Giles. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No laughin' matter, mate, believe me," Spike muttered, sipping tea. 

But Robson took no notice. There might as well have been only Giles and himself in the room. "Rupert?"

Giles sighed. Why did Spike have to open his big mouth? If the revelation could have waited until Giles and Robson were alone – well, except for a bottle of scotch – this would have been so much easier. 

"I assure you, Charles. It's true. Spike has a soul."

"But.." Robson only looked even more bewildered, "…but the vampire with a soul is that other fellow – the American. What's his name? Something ridiculous."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Spike growled. "What's so bloody hard to understand? Yeah, Angel has a soul – has had for yonks, and it's turned him into a boring, self-righteous twat, if you ask me – and now I have a soul too. There're two of us. Two vampires with souls, right? And no, I'm nothing like him." 

Giles winced, but bizarrely it seemed Spike's outburst had got through to Robson. 

Robson lowered the stake. He stared at Spike for a long time, while Spike drank tea and stared back. Then Robson turned to Giles. 

"It seems we have a lot to discuss, Rupert, and I have to say I'm still not happy about this. Soul or no soul, this is a vampire and as such, an added threat to our charges."

Giles wished he could disagree. "I'm sorry," he said. "I would have warned you I was bringing him if I could, but it was a last minute decision. As for our charges, they'll be well away from him at the safe house."

To his dismay, Robson and Norah exchanged significant glances.

Giles's stomach knotted in fear. "What's the matter? What's happened?"

Robson drew in a shaky breath. "The safe house has been compromised. They're all dead. Norah is the only survivor." 

"What?" Giles stared at Robson in dismay, while Spike froze in the act of pouring himself another cup of tea. 

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. 

Robson tried to smile at Norah. "Why don't you go on through to the living room, Norah? Make yourself at home?"

Norah hunched her shoulders. She looked from Spike to Robson and back again. "All right." Her voice shook slightly.

The girl gone, Robson closed the kitchen door firmly behind her. 

"She's seen enough today. She doesn't need to hear me go over the whole thing again for your benefit."

Giles nodded. "I concur." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike roll his eyes again, but, mercifully, he kept his thoughts to himself this time. 

Robson slumped down onto the kitchen stool. "Damn, I'm tired!"

Giles poured him a mug of tea. "Here."

Robson sipped the tea gratefully. Giving Spike another dubious look, he said, "Norah's only just arrived in London. I went to King's Cross to meet her train – told the others to stay inside the wards and keep the doors locked. When we came back, we found the back door forced open and the girls dead. All four of them, Rupert, brutally murdered. Young Norah saw everything."

Giles frowned. "She seems remarkably composed."

"Yes," Robson agreed. "I fear she's in shock."

"Probably," Giles said, while Spike muttered, "She's a Potential Slayer, for fuck's sake! She's tougher than you think."

Giles shot Spike a warning look. "Any clues at the scene?"

Robson indicated Spike with a nod of his head. "I'm not sure I should say any more in front of him."

Spike pushed away from the counter. "Fine by me. Kid looks like she could do with cheerin' up."

Robson stood up in a hurry. "That's not what I meant. Stay away from her, vampire."

Spike glared. "Name's Spike. An' I won't hurt the chit. Told you, I have a soul."

"I'm afraid I don't find that very reassuring," Robson said. "Rupert…"

Giles opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure what to say. He needed to get to grips with the situation, yet the thought of leaving Spike alone with the girl….

"I could go away altogether," Spike said, loudly, glaring at him. "Your choice, Giles."

Giles shook his head. "Not an option. It's all right," he said, to Robson. "He won't hurt her. He couldn't if he wanted to." He tapped his head. "Behaviour modification chip, remember? But if it'll make you feel any better, leave the door ajar."

Robson's eyes had narrowed again. He was good at sensing undercurrents. "Very well," he said. 

Spike stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and sidled past Robson out of the kitchen. As Giles pushed the door almost to behind him, he heard him say, "Chin up, love. It may never happen." 

Robson rounded on Giles at once. "What on earth is going on here?"

Giles found he didn't know where to start. "I'll explain it all, Charles. I promise. Just so you know, Harriet advised me to bring him."

Robson's jaw dropped. " _Harriet Harkness_ advised you to bring a vampire into my home? Has she gone insane?"

Giles grimaced. "It's – well, it's a complicated situation. Before I go into it further, I'm assuming I don't have to tell you what we're facing?"

Robson's lips thinned. "No. I'm well aware of it, and if I weren't, the sight of three Bringers running out of the safe house with bloodstained daggers would probably have alerted me. The First's sigil was unmistakeable."

"You _saw_ them?" Giles stared at him, aghast.

Robson nodded, face grim. "Fortunately, Norah and I were still in the taxi. They didn't see us – sense us – whatever it is they do. As far as they were concerned, the job was done. I told Norah to wait for me outside, but she didn't listen. Headstrong, like the others."

Giles couldn't help thinking of Buffy. Spike was right. "Potential Slayer after all."

Robson nodded. "I didn't touch anything at the house, just bundled Norah back into the taxi and came straight here. We need to reinforce the wards about this place, Rupert."

Giles nodded. "I agree. We also need to find another safe haven for the girls. It's only a matter of time before the Bringers discover this place too, no matter how careful we are."

"But where?" Robson sighed. "I must confess, Rupert, I'm at my wit's end, and there are two more girls arriving tomorrow. I don't know what we're going to do with them. They can't all stay here. There isn't room. Besides, you said yourself it's only a matter of time."

There was a sudden burst of laughter from the living room, making them both jump. 

"See?" Spike crowed. "Told you I could make you laugh."

Robson blinked. "Good lord. What's going on?"

Giles peered around the door, to see Spike and Norah sitting at opposite ends of the uncomfortable wooden ottoman. Spike was in full game face, fangs bared, and Norah was bright red with helpless mirth. Perhaps it was best not to know the particulars.

Giles ducked back into the kitchen. "All well, Charles. Don't worry."

Robson looked sceptical, but also relieved. The last few weeks hadn't been easy on either of them, Giles thought, and perhaps Robson was glad to have others to share the burden, even a vampire.

"I think we should sleep on it," Giles told him. "Wait till we can collect the two girls tomorrow. Then take all three of them to Harriet at Westbury. The coven will protect them while we arrange transport to the US." 

Robson looked dubious. "Do you think so? Surely there's safety in numbers? I'm of the opinion we should confront Travers. The Council's resources outstrip ours by a long way, and if we can't protect the girls…" 

Giles shook his head. "May I remind you, Charles, that Travers didn't choose to share information with us. He's known all along what we were facing, but he kept us out of the loop. Basically, he abandoned us to the Bringers."

Robson opened his mouth to protest, but Giles ignored him. "I also shouldn't have to point out that Travers's tactics so far have been woeful. He should have brought as many Potential Slayers as he could find into the safety of the Council building. Instead, he chose to leave them in their own homes under surveillance so as to draw the enemy in. Most have been murdered as a consequence. So much for round the clock protection."

"Well, it's not like our strategy has yielded better results," Robson countered. "All our charges, Rupert – all but one – killed right under our noses. We're going to have to inform their parents. Had you thought of that?"

Giles hadn't, and his heart sank. 

"If we can't protect Norah and the two new girls," Robson went on, "I fail to see how we can call ourselves Watchers."

Giles grimaced. "Right. You're right."

The rest of the tea was drunk in grim-faced silence. Meanwhile, in the living room, the low rumble of Spike's voice continued, interrupted now and again by shrieks of laughter from Norah. 

Giles glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He put the tea things in the sink, mentally squared his shoulders, and said to Robson, "Right, better set about strengthening those wards. Also, old chap – if you wouldn't mind – do you happen to have any chains handy?"

Robson's reaction was pretty much what Giles had expected.

*

Giles woke in the middle of the night. At once, he was fully alert, straining after familiar sounds at the very edge of his hearing. But there was nothing. Apart from the steady hum of traffic in the street, all was hushed and dark. Giles fumbled his glasses on and peered at his watch. Four o'clock in the morning. He looked over the edge of the bed, at where Spike lay on the floor on a mound of quilts and pillows.

Spike was fast asleep, face, shadowed by tiger-striped curls, curiously blank and innocent. Giles realised he was staring at Spike's eyelids, which were translucent and fine. He fancied he could see the blue eyes behind them, moving restlessly as Spike dreamed. 

What did vampires dream about, Giles wondered? The thought made him shiver. 

After a moment, Spike muttered something under his breath and rolled onto his side, the chains that bound him at wrist and ankle jinking softly as he moved. 

Giles cringed inwardly, remembering Robson's face when he'd made his request. Robson must have been more tired than he'd let on, letting that one go until morning without a proper explanation. 

Not that the poor fellow was likely to get a decent night's sleep on the ottoman, having gallantly given up his bedroom to Norah. 

The quiet settled over Giles like a blanket and he settled down to sleep again, only for his brain to go into overdrive and start replaying the events of yesterday evening, starting with his encounter with the phantom of Jenny.

Giles shivered again, remembering what the apparition had said to him. If only its words had consisted of nothing but vague threats and lies, but no, dammit, it had to speak the truth – the same truth repeated later, if more kindly, by Ms Harkness. 

Whichever way you looked at it, Giles's relationship with Spike was problematic. Some would even call it an abomination. Giles himself would have done, not so long ago.

He looked at Spike again, now sleeping with his back to him. 

What is it about you, he thought? What have you done to me? 

But Giles's own inner voice had nothing but contempt for this. _He hasn't done anything to you except beg for your help, you old fool. It's you. You should have been stronger_.

That's what Ms Harkness had said, and she was right. Giles mentally shook his head at his own stupidity and weakness. "I'll do better from now on, you'll see," he said to her, inside his head. He turned to Spike to include him in the silent promise, only to find Spike wide awake, in game face, and staring at him.

Giles sat bolt upright with a yelp. 

"Spike?"

No reaction, but a slow yellow-eyed blink. Spike rose sinuously to his feet, turned his back on Giles and moved towards the door, stumbling a little when the chains brought him up short, but not stopping. 

Giles clutched the sides of the bed as it jerked under him. Spike's chains were wound around the bedframe and the bed's heavy wooden feet screeched as they were dragged across the floor.

"Spike!" Giles tried again. 

There was no answer, but for one awful moment, Spike looked back at him over his shoulder, yellow gaze as blank and blind as a big cat's on the prowl. Even with the strongest wards he and Robson knew how to raise, Spike had once again gone beyond Giles's reach. 

What's more, from the way Spike was straining to reach the door, it was obvious that Giles was not his prey. 

Giles opened his mouth to call Spike's name again, but then, almost inaudible thanks to the scraping of wood across parquet and the frantic clinking of chains, he heard another, far more ominous, sound from outside the room – the sharp crack of a lock being forced open. 

"Oh dear lord!" Giles leapt from the bed and fumbled into his dressing gown. Relieved of his weight, the bed skittered across the floor towards Spike, leaving horrible scrape marks on the parquet. 

Spike was inches away from the bedroom door now, the bed crosswise behind him. As he tore open the door, Giles could just see over his shoulder the lump that was Robson, asleep on the ottoman. 

"Robson!" Giles shouted as loudly as he could. "For God's sake, man, wake up! Bringers!"

"Bloody hell!" There was a flurry of movement. Giles saw a dark shape scurry across the room, arm raised. Metal shone briefly in the streetlight from outside. Then the arm was plunging down towards the ottoman, while another dark shape threw itself off the ottoman onto the floor.

There was a sharp crack-crack and Robson's assailant went down without a sound. 

"Rupert – help Norah!" Robson was scrabbling to get up "There's another one in the bedroom." As he spoke, a third Bringer tackled him from behind and Robson went down with the gun underneath him.

"Oh God!" Giles looked wildly around for a weapon, but there was nothing. He clambered over the bed, which was now blocking the door completely, only to be brought up short by strong, cold fingers closing around his throat. Spike snarled at him, a yellow-eyed monster, lost to the dark. In the next room, Norah was screaming, "Get away from me! Leave me _alone_!" There was the sound of glass breaking.

"Spike!" Giles pulled ineffectually at Spike's hands. "Please! You're choking me!"

Spike gave no sign that he'd even heard. Lips drew back from fangs like razors as he moved in for the killing bite.

Giles's vision was blurring. His eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. For a moment, with awful clarity, he saw again that black pit on the hillside that Spike had dug with his bare hands. Not Spike's grave, but Giles's own, as he'd feared.

He struggled desperately, as fangs scraped the underside of his jaw. "Spike, please!" he gasped out with the last of his breath. "Let me go. They're…hurting her. They're….hurting the girl."

At the words, the hands on Giles's neck stopped squeezing. There was a frozen moment, and then, as suddenly as they'd grabbed hold of him, they let go. 

Giles fell forward onto his knees, gulping and choking. His throat felt bruised and it was hard to get air in his lungs. Multi-coloured stars exploded like fireworks in front of his eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Meanwhile, there was a roar of fury from Spike, a rush of air, and the sound of wood splintering. Something hard hit Giles in the face. Nearby, Robson shouted, "Rupert- help me!"

The voice cut through Giles's stupor. Still half blind, he lumbered to his feet, wading through inexplicable piles of broken wood, in the direction of the voice. By the time he reached the ottoman and grabbed hold of it, he could just make out the dark shapes of Robson and the Bringer wrestling on the floor. 

Giles stared. His head whirled. His throat felt like sand paper and it hurt to swallow. For a moment, he couldn't think what to do. Then almost on autopilot, he picked up one of the stray bits of wood – where on earth had they come from? – and brought it down as hard as he could on the back of the Bringer's head.

The Bringer went limp, trapping Robson underneath his body. "Norah!" Robson shouted. "Rupert –"

Giles's vision was clearing now. He could see that the pieces of wood had come from the bed. Spike must have lifted it into the air as easily as a toy and broken the frame to free himself. Giles took a better grip on the substantial plank in his hand, one end of which was bloodstained, and half-ran, half-stumbled towards Robson's bedroom, where an eerie silence had fallen. 

Fearing the worst, Giles fumbled with the light switch. 

"Oh dear lord!" 

Giles stared. The room resembled a slaughterhouse more than a bedroom. Spike stood in the middle of it, in a pool of blood. Blood streaked his arms to the elbows and splattered the wall behind him. There were…things lying in the pool too. Lumps of…

It took Giles a moment to realise they were body parts. 

He felt his gorge rise and swallowed with difficulty past the constriction in his throat, tearing his eyes off the grisly sight to look at Spike again.

Spike was human-faced. His blue eyes stared back at Giles out of a mask of blood. He indicated the corner, where Norah crouched with her back to him. 

"I told her not to look," Spike said. "Get her out of here, Giles."

*

"What happened?" Spike's voice was very subdued. He was on his knees, mopping up the blood with towels. Next to him, a bulging bin-liner held the remains of the dead Bringer. The corpse of the one Robson had shot was laid out in the hall, while the third Bringer still lay unconscious, chained up with the same chains that had bound Spike.

Giles glanced behind him, to where Robson sat with Norah in the living room. The girl was very wan, but again seemed remarkably composed. Giles hoped she had had the sense to do what Spike had told her.

Giles fingered his throat. He'd looked in the mirror. The bruises on his neck were quite dark. 

"Apart from you trying to kill me, you mean? I think you know very well what happened, Spike. You had one of your…your fits. I don't know how else to describe them. Do you not remember anything?"

Spike kept mopping. "Was dreaming," he muttered. "Don't remember anything after that, until I found myself with my hands around your neck and heard the kid screaming."

Ah," Giles said. "This dream – what was it about?"

Spike muttered something inaudible. 

"I beg your pardon?" Giles leaned closer, but Spike kept his head down.

"None of your sodding business."

Giles frowned. Trust Spike to turn un-co-operative at such a vital moment. He opened his mouth to point this out, but Robson interrupted him. He'd come up behind Giles and put a hand on his arm.

"We have to get out of here," Robson said. 

Giles nodded. "I agree. When are the two new Potentials arriving?" 

Robson shook his head. "We can't wait for them, Rupert. This is too big for us. We have to go to Travers."

"No –" Giles began, but Robson shook his head again for emphasis. "I mean it, Rupert. The best warding spells we could conjure, and they walked right through them as if they weren't there. We would be dead – Norah would be dead – if not for your vampire."

Giles glanced sidelong at Spike, but Spike gave no sign that he was listening. He continued mopping up blood.

"You don't have to do that," Robson said. When Spike paid no attention, he frowned and cleared his throat. "I say, er…Spike? You don't have to do that. I'm going to seal the flat when we leave. Only a Watcher's Council clean-up team will be able to gain access."

Spike stopped mopping at last. Sitting back on his heels, he gazed sombrely at Robson. "Yeah, well. Thought the kid might wanna come in here and get her things."

"That's…that's…" Robson looked very uncomfortable about having to be civil to a vampire, "very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Spike said. He raised his eyebrow at Giles and dropped his head again. 

Giles took the hint. "I think you're being somewhat precipitate, Charles. For all the reasons I stated earlier, we really don't want to go to Travers. If it makes you feel any better, you and Norah set off for Westbury right now and Spike and I will follow with the other girls in the morning."

Robson grimaced. "I don't know. The Westbury house…"

"….is far more under the radar, as it were, than Council headquarters," Giles finished for him. "And the coven's magics are a great deal more potent."

Hopefully, he thought, by now, they had succeeded in exorcising the evil let in by his foolishness. 

Robson looked unconvinced. He opened his mouth to protest again, but at that moment the phone rang.

They all jumped, even Spike. Robson looked at his watch. "It's four thirty in the morning. Who on earth could that be?"

Norah had picked up the phone. "Hello?" She held out the phone towards Robson. "It's for you, Mr Robson - a lady called Marion something-or-other."

As Robson hurried to take the handset from Norah, Giles felt a prickle of unease run down his spine. Marion Eliot was second to Ms Harkness in the coven. Why would she be calling here at this hour? Had Willow's departure not gone to plan?

Robson sat down on the ottoman. "Hello, Marion. What can I…." He shut his mouth abruptly. After a while he said, "I see. Yes, he's here. Yes, of course I'll tell him. My condolences, Marion. She'll be greatly missed."

Robson clicked off the handset and put it down very quietly. When he looked at Giles, his face was white and strained. "Harriet Harkness has been murdered," he said. "They found her body buried in a shallow grave out in the fields. According to Marion, her throat had been ripped to shreds. She'd been dead for at least two days." 

"But…" Giles began. He'd been about to say, "That's impossible," but the words died in his mouth. Instead, he found himself remembering the forbidding way Ms Harkness had glared at him when he'd made to kiss her cheek. What's more, Spike had just nearly killed him, and the chip had not fired.

"I never did see her touch anything," he said, as he crossed the room and picked up Robson's gun. 

"I beg your pardon?" Robson was staring at him. "Rupert, what are you….?"

Giles had just time to take in that Spike had stayed on his knees, like a condemned man, that his face was resigned and accepting of his fate, before he raised the gun and shot him point blank in the head. 

Spike swayed. He put up a hand to feel the neat bullet hole in his left temple. Then his eyes rolled up and he keeled over sideways. Norah screamed once, then she put her hand over her mouth.

Giles said to Robson,

"You're right, Charles. We've no choice. We have to go to Travers."


End file.
